


Breathe.

by JoJoSanders413



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst with a fluffy ending, Brief homophobia, Highschool AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans dirk, asthmatic jake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 20:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJoSanders413/pseuds/JoJoSanders413
Summary: Dirk is trans and his boyfriend gets bullied, but they stick together.





	Breathe.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zosonils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zosonils/gifts).



> Zo requested some Dirkjake so uh here it is I guess

Jake sat on his floor, staring at the lines of his hands and shivering from something other than the piercing cold that found its way through the layers of blankets and pillows he’d stacked around himself. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to keep his attention off the pain erupting through his chest. He tried to let his breath travel slowly in and out of his mouth and lungs, but it refused to stay calm and listen. He fumbled in the soft cloth next to him until his fingers touched the familiar shape of his inhaler. Breath out, one puff, in, hold, out, puff, in, hold, out, puff, in, hold, out, stay out, please stay out don’t come in it’ll hurt just please get away.  
Dirk lay shirtless on his bed, the slight chill of the sheets sending goosebumps dancing across his skin as he stared at the faint texture of his ceiling. One, two, three, four… The tiles spread above him, radiating from the point above his chest like ripples. The gentle whir of his computer running minecraft bounced off the walls, echoing through his ears and knocking against the inside of his skull. He took a deep breath in, momentarily feeling the slight pressure of his binder, and sent it back out, willing his exhaustion and lack of motivation to anything but sleep out of his body. The weight on his limbs stayed, as he’d expected it would. He sighed heavily. What was even the point in trying anymore?  
Jake trudged down the hallway, thumbs hooked in his backpack straps, shoulders hunched, his eyes scanning the floor ahead of him, searching for the pair of shoes he knew belonged to his boyfriend, hoping he’d find him before the passing period ended. As the hallway started to clear, Jake filled his legs to move faster, fighting to ignore the burning in his chest. “Hey homo!” a voice called out as its owner ran up and shoved the boy into the wall of lockers to his right, knocking the breath out of Jake’s lungs and bringing him to the floor, where he was met with a swift, sharp kick to the gut. Blocking out the sound of the other students and his own heaving breaths, Jake forced himself up to his elbows and then to his hands and knees, and started to crawl towards his classroom. “Dirk,” he barely audibly gasped, “where are you?”  
Dirk crouched in the shadows of the robotics lab, tinkering with some of the pieces of scrap metal that were tossed into the corner. His fingers flew across the cold metal, tapping as if he was playing a piano, and his eyes were screwed shut in concentration behind his sunglasses. His hands danced between the scraps and the layers of the toolbox next to him, occasionally pausing to rub his neck, but almost always in motion. His legs were growing numb from contact with the freezing concrete, and goosebumps had risen all over his bare arms, unhindered by the heat of his body. He remained oblivious to the obvious signs of discomfort from his surroundings. It was only when the fog of his breath and his exhaustion interfered with his ability to continue working that he noticed anything amiss. He fumbled for his phone with frozen fingers, patting each pocket of his jeans until he pulled it out. Fifteen texts and three missed calls, all from his boyfriend. “Shit shit shit shit shit,” he muttered, quickly dialing Jake’s number and calling.  
Jake sat in the corner of his room again, clutching his head in his hands and thinking about anything but the tears running down his face. His thoughts flashed back and forth between the present and past, images of himself in the mirror, of Dirk, of cold and bare doctor’s offices where somebody in a long white coat would frown at him and poke at and listen to his chest and back, ultimately concluding nothing about the pain. Maybe it was just “in his head” after all, maybe he was “just looking for attention”in the grand scheme of things.  
Dirk stuffed his phone in the front pocket of his jeans, starting running towards the door, swung his backpack onto his back and kept running through the hallways and out of the school, down the sidewalks and to the street where he knew Jake’s house lay. He came around the corner at a dead sprint and skidded as he turned to go up the stairs to the porch. He barreled through the door with a hurried “Afternoon, Mrs. Harley!” before going up to Jake’s room. Dirk heard Jake’s grandmother call out “Take care of him, Dirk, he’s a good lad” before he reached the door to his boyfriend’s room and took a moment to catch his breath before lightly knocking twice quickly, then once hard, a pause, three fast and light before carefully and slowly opening the door.  
Two boys are lying on a bedroom floor, covered in blankets next to the closet door. One has his arms around the other, face buried in his chest, and both are asleep, getting well-earned rest. They cling to each other as they fall into dreams, sometimes life is a nightmare, but it can’t rip the seams.


End file.
